Long Road Home
by malladay
Summary: The group deals with the emotional aftermath of Lucille. Focus on Rick, Michonne, and Carl. **Contains references to season 7 spoilers.**
Author's Note: The spoilers and speculation for season 7 inspired me to try my hand at writing how the encounter with Negan might affect the group members that were in the line up. I'm a big fan of Michonne (and Rick), so much of the focus will be on her, but I'll try to share the love with all of the characters.

"Poor thing."

Negan held Lucille in his hand, using the faint light coming from behind to inspect his prized possession. The wood was stained darker with a coating of fresh blood, and little flecks of flesh and brain matter clung to the sharp spikes and in between the crevices of the barbed wire that wrapped around the barrel of the bat. He dropped her to his side with a sigh as the mangled, bloodied person they'd just rendered lifeless came back into focus before him.

He looked down the line of people in front of him, all looking as if they'd taken the beating themselves with their defeated postures and tears. All except for the woman with the dreadlocks and the kid. Both were still upright on their knees. Chest proud and eyes on him. The kid was stone cold, but he could see the woman's lower lip trembling and a tear streaming down her left cheek. He chuckled at their resolve, finding it admirable, but adorably misguided, as he knew he could deliver them the same fate as the big man with the red hair. All he had to do was swing the bat.

He paced back and forth along the line a few more times, admiring his handiwork, before he came to a stop in front of their leader. He crouched down the meet the man's eyes, his body sunk even lower to the ground now as he'd dropped back to sit on his heels.

"You get it now?"

Rick stayed quiet, except for the sound of his shallow breath. He kept his bloodshot, watery eyes cast downward.

"I'm gonna need an answer from you before I let you and your people go on your way…"

Rick kept his chin down, and tilted his head to the right, shutting his eyes to avoid seeing what was left of Abraham.

"Yes," he whispered through clenched teeth.

"What was that?" Negan asked as he leaned forward and cupped his free hand over his ear. "I just need to be sure we're on the same page here."

"I already said it," Rick bit back, though weakly and still without making eye contact.

Negan let out a dry laugh, his face so close to Rick's that he could feel his breath on his cheek, before he stood up and looked at his men gathered behind the line up then pointed at a large, nondescript man with light brown hair.

"Let me see that."

The man walked forward and handed him the ax he'd been holding, handle side first. Negan held it up in front of him and scoffed at the bottom of the line, standard hardware store-issue tool.

"This is yours?" he asked with a smirk. "This is just sad. Really fucking sad. Not fitting for a leader at all. I could show you a thing or two. Maybe one day we'll get to that point. How does that sound?"

Rick's continued silence was met by a swift strike to the jaw with the handle of the axe that knocked him off balance and laid him flat on the ground. As he moved his arms to push himself up, he felt a blow to his back and a steady pressure that pinned him to the ground. He was down on the ground, eye level with Abraham's beaten body, as the pool of blood continued to grow around his head and run towards him. He tried to turn his head to avoid the gruesome display, but he felt Negan's foot move from his back to head to stop him.

"Nope. No. You don't get to turn away. Take a good, long look at that. I thought I had made it clear, but somehow you still don't fucking get it. The answer is always _yes_ , Rick. Always."

The weight of Negan's boot lift from his head, and he braced himself for another blow, disbelieving that he was in the clear.

"Get up," Negan commanded.

Rick began to push himself up, hesitantly at first since he wasn't sure what game his captor was playing now, until he was back on his knees.

"There we go. Now stand up," he goaded watching Rick place one foot forward then put his hand on that knee to help him stand. "Good," Negan said with a patronizing smile. "We're getting the hang of it. Like learning to ride a bike. Now _you_ come with _me_."

Rick began to walk slowly toward Negan, his legs stiff from kneeling for so long and trembling from fatigue and emotion. As he walked toward him, Negan continued to walk backwards, leading him to the steps of the RV behind him. He turned and opened the door, then held his arm out for Rick.

"After you," he said with a shit-eating grin that Rick would have tried to swipe off his face before they found themselves in this situation.

He stepped into the doorway, then looked back to see his son staring right back at him. His steely blue eyes peeked out from under the wide brim of his hat, and the hard sneer on his face unsettled Rick even more than he already was. Was he that unaffected by what he just witnessed? Did he truly not understand that there was no way out from this one? Or was that look one of disappointment and disgust for him? For his failure as a father and as a leader? It was something he'd seen from him before that he'd hope never to see again. He nodded weakly at his son, then turned to enter the RV. He slowed as he began to cross the threshold and quickly glanced back in Michonne's direction. He saw her knees on the ground, and knew she was still upright and likely looking right at him, but he couldn't face her. Not like this. So he walked into the RV as told, disappearing from her sight.

Negan stood on the step and took one last look at the group, having noticed that the stoic woman's eyes had left him for the first time throughout this entire ordeal, and were now trained on her leader as she visibly grew more agitated, shifting her weight on her knees, once he disappeared from her line of sight.

"Don't you worry, sweetheart. He'll be back in time for breakfast," he said with a wink for her benefit before looking up to address his group. "Just goin' on a little trip. You know what to do."

With that he walked into the RV and slammed the door shut. The loud bang reverberated in their ears and bones. The ignition revved a few times before finally catching after a few seconds, and Michonne watched as it drove off carrying the man she loved and the man she now hated with all of her being.

She glanced over at Maggie who now wore the blood of the dead man between them on her face and clothes just like she did. Without Rick or Abraham at her side to support her, Maggie was now doubled over, head to the ground, and hands clutching her stomach as she tried to stifle the urge to cry out in pain. Michonne had no idea what had happened since she'd last seen her that morning, but she couldn't sit there and helplessly watch her friends any longer so she rose to her feet while the rest of the group watched in stunned silence.

"The hell do you think you're doing?" A man asked from behind as he gruffly grabbed her arm and tried to pull her back down. "Nobody said you could get up."

"Don't touch me," she demanded as she ripped her arm out of his grasp. "He took one of ours. That was the deal. It's done. She needs help," she urged as she pointed over at Maggie.

The random savior looked at the ill woman then at the group of men around him, and laughed derisively, drunk on whatever power he held now that Negan had left. When he didn't say no, Michonne walked forward until he grabbed her arm again.

"What did I say?" She asked, seething, as she tried to pull her arm away unsuccessfully this time.

"Let her go," the thin, mustached man who seemed to be second in command called out.

The man looked at the other, visibly irritated with being overruled, then let go of Michonne's arm. She took half a second to enjoy her victory, staring him down defiantly, before she rushed to her friend's side. She knelt down next to her, and when she placed a gentle hand on her back, she felt her friend pull away in fear despite knowing that it was her.

"Hey, it's just me," Michonne whispered in a soothing voice, mirroring Maggie's position as she bent down to get a look at her face. "Where does it hurt?"

"It was here." Her voice was trembling with emotion and she gasped as she touched the right lower corner of her barely showing belly. "But now it's just all over."

"OK, we're gonna get you help. As soon as Rick gets back. I promise," she whispered into her ear even though she knew that all of her adversaries already knew this was the plan, before and after this detour.

Michonne straightened up and took a moment to look at her friends. She caught Glenn's eye first, they were full of tears and pleading with her to help him get to his wife. His hands were on the ground in front of him, as he leaned as far forward as possible without moving from his place, desperate to get to her and ready to move as soon as he felt it was safe to do so.

Rosita was almost in a trance, staring at her ex-boyfriend's lifeless body, unable to believe that she'd lost him again, this time for good. Daryl say next to her, blanket shrouded over his injured body, staring at the ground, unable to help his family since he was in need of help himself and just trying to stay upright as fought the sleepy, woozy feeling from the shock that was setting in from the loss of blood and constant pain.

Michonne looked the other way to see Sasha sobbing in Aaron's arms, her head buried in his chest because that wasn't the last image she wanted in her mind of her new love. Carl kneeled beside them, his eyes trained on Michonne just waiting for one of the adults to make a move that he could get behind. Across from them, Eugene, the unlikeliest survivor of all, stared at his friend and protector wondering how he had met his end before him.

"Carl. Glenn." Michonne barked their names like a general giving orders.

They were the only two who seemed capable of helping, and it got Glenn to his wife and Carl close to her like she wanted. They rose to their feet and began to move toward her until a voice stopped them in their tracks.

"Hold on now. You think this is a party or something?" the man with the mustache asked as he stepped closer to Michonne.

"I need them to help me get her back on the stretcher."

"You're really pushing your luck, aren't you?" he asked.

"This woman," she said as she stood and walked over to him, looking him square in the eye the entire time, "is the only one who knows how to tend to crops in our community. You want us to work for you? You want half of our supplies? Then she needs to live. We need to get her ready so that we can get her help or else there's no food for anyone."

He considered her point for a moment, then put his hands on his hips and clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Well, I do try like my three square meals a day," he gloated. "Go ahead."

At his word, Glenn rushed to Maggie's side, dropping to his knees to cradle her in his arms and find out what had gone wrong since that morning. Carl headed straight toward Michonne, bringing his arms up from his side as if he was going to embrace her. She stepped aside and turned her back to look down at Maggie in order to avoid him, and within a few seconds he was standing at her side looking down, as well.

"Not here," she said out of the corner of her mouth as she looked up at the dozens of Savior's who had their eyes on her. She wasn't willing to give them one more thing today.

"You OK?" she asked under her breath, allowing herself to sneak a quick glance at him.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah." She cupped his elbow with her hand, feeling relieved that he was safe and sound by her side, then pulled him down to kneel next to Maggie with her. She grabbed the stretcher that was just behind them and dragged it over. "OK, Glenn, you get her head and shoulders, Carl get her feet," she said loudly for the Savior's benefit. "I'll support her back. On three, OK?"

On her count, they carefully lifted Maggie, and placed her on the stretcher then stayed by her side. Michonne took one of her hands in hers and Glenn staying at her head, where he leaned over whispering reassurances as he stroked her cheeks with his hands. Carl stayed down by her feet, happy to finally have a function, as he vigilantly kept watch over the group.

"Hey," she whispered after watching Carl for a moment. He turned his head to look at her. "He's gonna be OK. He'll be back soon," she said, assuring him and herself in that moment.

"He will be," he said resolutely as looked forward again, finding it hard to keep his eyes from landing on Abraham.

It was like nothing he'd ever seen before. He'd heard whispers of what his father, Michonne, Abe, and Sasha had done to the group from Terminus in the church that night a few months back. He'd heard the thuds and yells, and seen the blood stained floors the next morning, but they'd removed the bodies before they let him and Judith come out of the vestibule. This was a sick sight, but what made him feel sicker was the relief he felt that it wasn't his father or Michonne he was staring at. Or even Maggie, Glenn, or Daryl. Still, as he looked at Sasha's and Eugene's faces, and even Rosita's he felt their pain, mixed with his own guilt. He took the hat off of his head and stood then began walking slowly toward the body.

All eyes were on the him, and Michonne's eyes nervously darted between him and the Saviors as they watched this fascinating young man. She was ready to pounce in an instant if they made a move toward him. Instead, he quietly proceeded to Abe's body, then kneeled by his side.

"I'm sorry," he said simply before resting the hat over his disfigured face, hiding the worst of his injuries from constant view.

He got up and walked back to his post at Maggie's feet, receiving gratitude in the form of nods from Eugene and Sasha as he did. He watched Michonne as he kneeled again, and she gave him a look he'd only ever received from her and his parents. Her eyes welled up as she mouthed _thank you_. She was proud of him and grateful that he was there looking out for the group alongside her. He needed no recognition, though, and just nodded then went back to his watch.

This group was down, beaten and broken, and lower than they'd ever been, but this was not the end. It was another beginning, and they would start over again, just like they always had, relying on their strength and love for each other. As soon as Rick got back, they would begin mourning Abraham. They would get Daryl and Maggie the help they needed. They would start healing and figure this out. _Just as soon as Rick gets back_ , she thought, as she stared at the empty space where the RV had been parked. Any minute now...


End file.
